Here's someone we don't hear from often: Jean-Claude Van Damme. The Muscles From Brussels, as Wikipedia calls him, is (happily?) married, but that doesn't stop him from hitting on poor Newsweek reporters during interviews about his latest film creation. It's glorious, and almost akin to watching animals mate. You know you should look away, but you can't. See his Mystery-worthy technique after the jump.
Bonus: While searching on Mollygood for previous Jean-Claude items, I came across this old school post, which has become the greatest gift I've ever unintentionally received (video also after the jump). Enjoy. CONTINUED »
I'm afraid I have some bad news, you guys. Brian, the accidental star of our weekly feature Reality Bytes, was eliminated on last night's episode of VH1's d-bag competition The Pick Up Artist. Take a moment to honor him in silence, please.
OK, now that the mourning process is over, let's celebrate Brian's time on our television sets. The happy-go-lucky contestant who had terrible luck with women used his weekly exposure to introduce some fabulous new phrases that we now employ in our everyday vernacular. He also truly wanted to change and learn how to present himself in a way that is attractive to women. Unfortunately, his constant need to admit that he loves pickle juice signaled his demise on the show. This led to an emotional departure in which Brian announced he was finally ready to kiss someone "instead of a mannequin … or a guy." Good for you, Brian. Good for you.
After the jump: Our top five favorite quotes from the man of the hour. He will truly be missed. CONTINUED »
What is it about this tool in a fuzzy hat that makes girls swoon and men bow down at his feet? The guy at left is Mystery, as you may or may not know, and he has his very own slot on VH1 called The Pick Up Artist. It's also my current favorite reality show on television (yes, there are things I like more than The Hills). Sure, it's not exactly a masterpiece, but the premise is strangely addictive: Mystery takes nine guys who have terrible luck with the females and turns them into "pick up artists." Sounds skeezy, but it's actually quite heart-warming: Turns out not all males are cocky d-bags who just want to get some action at a bar at 2 a.m. Who knew?
So Mystery teaches these guys how to approach women on a day-to-day basis without looking like a creepy pervert — and, somehow, it works. The show is in its second season and I still can't get over how enlightening it is, even after multiple episodes. Of course, some men are being enlightened as well — and have even tried to use the techniques on me and my friends. Here's a hint, guys: It only works if you don't sound like you're reading off a cue card.
Anyway, last night was the premiere episode (which will likely be rerunning all week, for those of you playing along at home), and each contestant got the makeover treatment. My early favorite (and new crush): Matt Radmanovich, the 26-year-old property manager from Redondo Beach, Calif., whose only girlfriend dumped him after he flew to England to surprise her (aww). He has a large gap between his front two top teeth and a forest of chest hair that could keep anyone warm in the winter — and he cleaned up beautifully. Check him out after the jump.
Whenever dad would go off to work, I'd wait for the door to slam and I'd grab a record and turn on the stereo. Eventually, my dad would scratch his head and be like, "Have any of you been going through my records?" He'd ask everyone, and by the time he got to me, I was so terrified you'd think the word "yes" was written on my forehead. I'd get my brains beat out of me, sometimes until I was unconscious. Then he'd put my hands on the radiator and burn them, in hopes that it would keep me out of the closet. But it only peaked [sic] my interest more.
-Grandmaster Flash in a new interview with Newsweek
Remember when tremendously talented people with awful parents worked hard and became great instead of going on coke binges and shopping all day long? I don't, but it must have been wonderful.
In case you missed the comments regarding this post on VH1's waste of life of the moment, I've done you a favor and posted the best one here. It's authored by an ambitious upstart named james09, and I doubt I'm incorrect in saying he hopes you'll enjoy it.
Every great person has a horde of ‘douche bags’ who are jealous and make up shit about him.
‘The taller poppies are the ones to get cut.’
(Sumthin like that.)
Anyway Mystery is fuckin awesum and has more balls than all of you people put together. Because of this fact he is smooth and leads a great life, and makes people like you who no f all about him to be jealous of him.
Your just small minded.
It disrespects women. You dont know what your talking about. Stop complaining bitches.
Touché, worthy opponent!
Look to the video above to underscore james09's point. Taken from the blog of so-called "great person" Mystery (née Erik James Horvat-Markovic), the video highlights his "fuckin awesum" handiwork, which appears to be traveling to nightclubs around the world and kissing unattractive women. It's astonishing. Personally, I've not seen such a "great life" since I thumbed through a stack of embarrassing photos from South Beach. I'm glad I have james09 to reassure me that Spring Break '02 was as good as it gets. I had worried as much. Poppy ready to be ripped out by the roots, here.
Rarely do I miss having cable television. Every time I fly JetBlue and see that MTV has devolved into a trendy succession of shouting matches, I'm reminded of exactly why I don't mind not being able to see it at will. And though Shark Week and Planet Earth are tough to go without, the advent of DVDs and YouTube have softened that blow. However, occasionally a show will come along that makes me seriously reconsider my decision to not have cable, even if only for the duration of its season. The Pick Up Artist might very well be my biggest no-cable regret ever, as not being able to fully immerse myself in its atrocious filth makes me feel as if I might be missing out on a cultural flashpoint. This VH1 piece of magical condescension intends to take a dozen or so kind and decent men and turn them into obnoxious "playas," all with the help of a fuzzy-hatted, ponytailed dipshit named—no way!—"Mystery." (You read that correctly.) With the aid of two former students, J-Dog and Matador, Mystery promises to groom and coach the lovable losers into dashing lady-killers. According to the clip above, this means getting them out of their old clothes, waxing their eyebrows and convincing them that the men they were before Mystery was meaningless. Oh, and crushed velvet, lots of crushed velvet.
VH1 airs episode one of the program again this evening. While my favorite line thus far ("I'll personally be embarrassed if you guys don't start making out with girls!") doesn't look to be part of tonight's episode, be sure to tune in and listen closely, as I'm sure every episode is a fertile valley from which to harvest quotes to make fun of douchebags.
PS Fuck Mystery, J-Dog and Matador. Any woman who would "really connect" with a guy in airplane goggles who calls himself a noun/adjective isn't a woman worth learning how to pick up. I just wish the poor bastards populating the contestant pool had been found by a smidgen of confidence before being hunted by greedy producers.
Another great (awful?) clip after the jump, including these words of wisdom, courtesy of Matador, "A lot of these guys look like they have a very nice-guy-type life, we need to rip that out and we need to revamp it." (Just typing that made me angrier than I've been in quite some time.)
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